


The Summer Queen

by spookyscaryskeletons (Buttons15)



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angry Anticolonialist Honeymaren, F/F, I did not think this out, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/spookyscaryskeletons
Summary: The Summer Queen had invited her to parley.Maren attended, because she must.
Relationships: Anna/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> blatant anticolonialism propaganda? in MY fic? it's more likely than you think

The Summer Queen had invited her to parley.

Maren attended, because she must.

They were strange, the Arendelle sisters. The eldest, the Winter Queen, had reigned for little over three years before vanishing entirely. There were legends, of course, whispers about the wild witch that lived in an ice castle and ran through the woods at night, singing hauntingly beautiful songs. And when snow came, so did she – one day a year, hanging crystals on pine trees that left the forest filled with rainbows. Maren had caught the barest glimpses of her a few times.

And then there was the youngest, Anna Arendelle, the Summer Queen, who took the crown after her sister’s… desertion. Those who had known both, Yelana included, claimed the two were like ice and fire. Where Elsa had been aloof, Anna was warm. Where Elsa had been strict, Anna was lax with rules and informal. Where Elsa had been clearly  _ something else _ , Anna was simply, purely human, or so they claimed.

_ Or so they claimed, _ Maren thought over and over as she the guards opened the castle gates to let her in. It was always like this – at the height of summer, on the day of the solstice, Anna would call upon the Northrulda leader to discuss the year’s trade agreements. Up until three years ago, that was Yelana, then Maren finally took her place.

There was a lot of advice that came with her new role, bits and pieces of knowledge about several aspects of being a chief. But the strangest, the most unusual, that was what stuck with Maren – Yelana’s words about the Summer Queen.  _ Two pieces of advice _ , she had said.

_ She and her sister were never unfair, unlike their ancestors,  _ the words echoed in her mind, in sync with the sounds of her echoing footsteps.  _ But the Summer Queen parleys for sport. Fight back, or she will eat you alive. _

Queen Anna sat on the throne, and Maren could tell that she was expected by the glass of wine which Anna lazily swirled in one hand. She was always sipping on something when they met, yet never quite inebriated. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and she greeted Maren with a cocky half-smile. “Arthur, Matthias, thank you,” She nodded towards the guards and stood. “You may leave us.”

The guards replied with a salute and walked away. Anna made her way down the steps to greet her, taking off her gloves and placing them on her shoulder as she moved.

“Your highness,” Maren greeted, tipping her head.

“Miss Nattura,” Anna placed her hands on Maren’s shoulders, sending a jolt to her spine. “How many years have we spent  _ Sankthansaften  _ together, again?”

“Three,” she replied, the words leaving her mouth almost against her will.

“And for three years I have told you,” Anna lightly slapped her on the cheek, “Call me Anna.”

_This is a business_ _meeting_ , Maren reminded herself for the first of what were bound to be many times during the day. “Anna,” she repeated, letting herself be guided through the room’s back door to a more private place where their negotiations would take place. “Sorry. Formality is a habit.”

“A most inconvenient one, wouldn’t you agree?” Anna closed the door behind them. The terms to be renewed were already on the center table, together with a bottle of finest Arendellian wine. “I find there’s such… intimacy in negotiation. As it is with any clash of ideas, really – a look into your opponent’s motivations. Almost a glimpse into their soul.”

She was talkative, Queen Anna. She dominated conversations with the same ease Maren would tame a reindeer. Not by force but by skill, with such mastery that not unlike her reindeer, Maren would feel at home rather than herded.

_ (They did eventually eat the reindeer, though.) _

Realizing she owed Anna an answer, she cleared her throat. “Maybe that’s why it comes with formalities,” she walked to the sofa and sat down. “To keep some manner of distance between individuals in such an intimate exchange.”

Anna smiled. She was beautiful when she smiled, dimples taking shape on her cheeks, though she was beautiful all the time. She was beautiful in a traditional way, all her soft curves, freckled skin and the undeniable glint of intelligence in her eyes, but above all she was  _ warm _ . She was radiant, always glowing, sharing the exact same pull as a crackling campfire on a cold winter night.

Despite her logical brain screaming otherwise, despite her trying very much to remain alert, Maren found herself relaxing against the cushion, and once again reminded herself,  _ this is a business meeting. _

“Always sensible, always interesting,” Anna took her own seat, then grabbed the bottle. “Wine?”

It would be rude to refuse, so Maren nodded. “Thank you.” She extended her glass, and once it was full, she turned her attention to the papers in front of her. She’d read them in advance, of course – they had been sent almost a month prior. And though it had been hard the first time, Maren had more or less gotten the hang of how to make the best out of this situation. “Let’s skip the formalities, then, and get straight to the heart of things. Your taxes are too high. I want a discount, if not full exemption.”

“Ha!” Anna placed her glass down and clapped her hands, rubbing them together mischievously. “How very bold of you. Fine, I’ll humor you. Let’s hear the reasoning behind such a daring proposal.”

_ Don’t bore her, _ Yelana’s advice echoed, and Maren knew outrage was a way of keeping things interesting. And then, oddly enough, her mind jumped back to the thought:  _ purely human, or so they claimed. _

But the room was so comfortable, so cozy, and Anna’s green eyes were hypnotizing, Maren wasn’t entirely sure that magic had skipped over the second child. “As you know, the Northrulda have always been a self-sustaining community. We live in harmony with nature. We take what we need and no more than that, and this is why we know we’ll still have resources five or ten generations in the future. The surplus we produce for trading corresponds to the exact amount we need to trade for.”

“Mmh.” Anna took a sip of her wine, watching Maren closely. “Do go on.”

“The taxes mean we have to produce more, and that puts a strain in our environment. Our economy was never meant to sustain a monarchy.” She knew her words were daring, perhaps even aggressive, but when Anna arched an eyebrow, she seemed more amused than irked, and so Maren kept going. “You tax our leathers, our meat and our  _ duodji  _ as luxury products, because that’s what they are to you – leather when you can have cheaper cotton, red meat when you can have cheaper fishes, handcrafted tools when you have your own smiths. The competition is already hostile enough. The taxes make it impossible.”

“Then you have to make your products more appealing,” Anna mused, and Maren watched her casually kick off her shoes and bring her feet to the couch. “As do all our other trade partners.”

“With all due respect,  _ queen _ Anna,” She took a long gulp of her wine, “You have our red meets aplenty, and you wear our warm leathers in winter. The products are appealing enough. You can attest to their quality.” Maren put her glass down on the table and met Anna’s gaze. “Why your citizens cannot afford to have such luxuries is a question for you to answer, not me.”

There was a moment of tense silence when Maren genuinely wondered whether she had gone too far and would get beheaded for this, and then Anna burst out laughing, throwing her head back while Maren felt relief wash over her. Relief, and maybe something else.

_ Business meeting. _

“Oh, this is good. This is so good.” Anna narrowed her eyes at her “The nerve. The spite. Mm-hm. Delicious.” She drank deeply and licked her lips. “I’ll humor you, for your boldness. Suppose I agree to these terms. What would I tell my other trade partners, then? What would you say in my place?”

“That you  _ owe _ us,” Maren replied without hesitating, and gods, the wine was strong. Or maybe she was just angry. “Because you do. Because your grandfather fucked us up, in ways we still haven’t recovered from.” She finished her drink and put the glass on the floor. “Because we were trapped for decades inside a mist. Because we endured the wrath of the spirits alone. Because sometimes the reindeer are thin and so are our children, and that has never been an accident.”

Anna tilted her head. Maren pointed at her. “Your grandfather built a dam to weaken us, and it has, and though we’re grateful you tore it down, that was also… the bare minimum.” She dropped her hand, but her blood was still boiling. “We don’t want to rely on your emergency supplies during the winter. We don’t want to need you to provide us with seeds. We don’t want your breadcrumbs and your charity. We want to recover, to be truly free, and though we deserve so much more restitution for the sabotage of our livelihood, all I ask of you is that you  _ stop _ taking from us. If you won’t help, at least don’t make it worse. Stop this vicious cycle of need and dependency. Your mother was one of us. So are you. So  _ show _ it.”

Anna flinched then, taken aback, and Maren knew she’d  _ definitely  _ pushed things too far. She saw all manners of emotions cross Anna’s face as she gazed intently at the wine in her glass – hurt, anger, sadness, before her expression finally settled into a deep resignation. She finished her drink, sighed, and put her glass down. “Fine.”

“I – “ Maren blinked. She’d been expecting a sharp retort, perhaps even the loss of her diplomatic position. She definitely hadn’t been expecting Anna to agree. She knew she hadn’t been entirely fair – that the sins of the father were not the sins of the son, let alone of the grandson. It wasn’t Anna’s fault, what her grandfather did. And  _ yet _ . “Really?”

“You did a nice job of making it sound like the bare minimum. Arendelle will survive without the sliver that is the income from Northruldan taxes. And if my trade partners give me hell for it, well.” Anna shrugged. “The diplomatic shitstorm sounds like a small price to pay in face of what your –  _ our _ – people had to endure.”

“Oh.” Maren blinked. Anna was idly toying with her braid, curled up on the same couch she was, and Maren couldn’t stop her eyes from running over Anna’s exposed legs. There was a vulnerability to her face, sad and thoughtful, and it only increased the strange magnetism she held. Maren found herself with a growing need to touch her. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I meant what I said but… it could have been worded better.”

“No, I don’t think it could,” Anna crossed her legs and leaned forward. “I think you said it very well.”

“I don’t know. Yelana always told me it was wise to keep my emotions out of my negotiating.”  _ And she was right, and I usually do, but there’s something about you – _

Anna smirked. “Wise? Certainly. But I appreciate sincerity, perhaps more so than wisdom. And, besides, I’m somewhat partial to you. Tell me, Maren,” Her gaze softened, and her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “How do you celebrate  _ Sankthansaften  _ among the Northrulda?”

“We call it  _ midsommar,“  _ Maren’s gaze drifted to Anna’s fingers, long and delicate. She reminded herself this was a business meeting. She took a deep breath. “We burn a large bonfire and boil coffee on it. We eat dried meat and cheese while we drink it. And we share stories.” She realized her own voice was quieter when Anna moved closer. “And for the brief moments when the sun finally goes down, we hold our hands in a circle and sing.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Anna bit her lip in thought. Again Maren felt the pull of her presence, this time with something else – longing, perhaps.

“You should come, next year,” She said on impulse. “I meant it, Anna. You  _ are _ one of us. You’d be welcome.”

“Would I? Despite everything?”

“You’d be welcome,” Maren repeated. “I’d make sure of it.”

“Why?”

“You’re the bridge we’ve needed for so long,” Maren moved closer. “It would be foolish to burn it. And…” Their shoulders touched. Maren looked away but didn’t move, feeling pinpricks on her skin. “And I genuinely want you there.”

_ The second bit of advice is about the Summer Queen’s lovers,  _ Yelana had said, mere moments before she walked into her very first audience with Anna.  _ Though, really, there’s nothing to be said here. You’ll learn it by yourself, if you ever do. _

“ On  _ Sankthansaften,  _ it is said that if a woman sleeps with a flower under her pillow, she’ll dream of the next person she’ll fall in love with,” Anna placed her hand on Maren’s knee, and Maren straightened her back. “Do you know why I always invite you here on the longest day of the year?”

“It’s when your powers are at their strongest?” Maren said, only half-joking.

“Ha!” Anna beamed, and Maren was once more enraptured by her dimples. “Good guess, but no. I just…” She turned to face Maren. When their eyes met, Maren felt uncomfortably warm. “If I only get to see you for one day every year, might as well pick a very long one.”

Maren felt her cheeks heat up, felt her ears burn. “Maybe we should negotiate more often, then.”

“Maybe we should. I’ve been dreaming of you for many years now, Maren,” she moved closer still, and her hand clasped Maren’s chin and tilted it up. “I’m going to kiss you now, if you’ll let me.” Anna announced, then waited.

“Go ahead,” Maren replied, and closed her eyes.

Anna’s kiss was like fire, slow at first and then with growing boldness as Anna pushed Maren down with her weight and parted Maren’s lips with her tongue. Her feistiness came through by bites in between kissing, and her touch made Maren feel warm from fingertips to toes. Anna kissed her again and again, drawing soft moans from Maren’s throat when her fingers grazed over the skin of Maren’s hips.

_ This is a business meeting,  _ she thought incoherently when Anna snuck a hand under her shirt, and Maren’s fingers tangled themselves in red hair, and her lips found Anna’s freckled skin. 

_ A business meeting. Gods, I’m a disaster. _

“You’ve negotiated some pretty good terms today,” Anna whispered as if reading her mind, her breath warm against Maren’s ear. “You should be proud of yourself. Though I wonder how good you are at negotiating under… other kinds of pressure.”

_ Not that good, _ Maren thought, breathing in the scent of her – flowery perfume, sweat, arousal, an immensely alluring mix.  _ Terrible, actually. I’m already finding it hard to think.  _ “Try me,” she said instead, because above all, she knew she shouldn’t let the queen grow bored.

And try her Anna did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But buttons, WHY?"  
> because fuck you
> 
> "What was the goal of this???"  
> it might seem I wanted to make the biggest amount of people angry and confused or both  
> that's not true. i just wanted those girls to kiss. the chaos it causes is merely a bonus. 
> 
> "What about Elsa?? What about Kristoff?? Are they cheating???"  
> I DON'T KNOW. Maybe Kristoff is dating Ryder. Maybe everyone is poly and Anna can have the blonde beefcake AND the cute reindeer girl. Maybe Elsa is kissing that lesbian from Tangled or the ice boy from another franchise. this is an AU so they aren't cheating in my head but if that's your jam then sure, read it as such. whatever, who knows. must I provide the answer to every single important question my story raises. is it not enough to provide the lesbians. 
> 
> "Does Anna actually have some magical seductress powers or is Maren just really gay?"  
> yes
> 
> "Shit buttons I ship it now and there's 01 fic on the tag, what do I do???"  
> perish in rarepair hell
> 
> thanks to [ Meadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamond_dusted/pseuds/diamond_dusted) for nagging me to write this and then for beta-ing it for me!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> puta merda i'm like a fucking drug addict going "next chapter imma stop"

The meeting happened in different circumstances than usual, which would have made Maren less comfortable, except it was Anna they were talking about, and through either instinct or well-done research, Anna knew exactly how to accommodate her. And so they sat on top of a hill, the ground covered by clovers, pleasant wind on their faces and their horses grazing nearby.

Maren was having a picnic with the Summer Queen, and the day was coming along just fine, which, of course, meant they just hadn’t arrived at the heart of the matter yet: the true motivations of this meeting were yet to be revealed.

And Maren could have, perhaps even _should_ have pressed the queen to get to the point, but she was having too good of a time. “I don’t think I like this,” she eyed the fish suspiciously, its sour taste still lingering in her mouth.

“The pickled herrings?” Anna sat across her, wearing a vibrant orange dress that suited her and seemed to compliment the colors around them perfectly, as if she were a flower herself. “They’re not for everyone, true. Very acidic. Try the fårikål instead.”

She motioned to one of the metal trays, where a plate of lamb, cabbage and potatoes rested. Maren took a bite of the meat. The texture was soft and the taste was rich. “This is better,” she said, still chewing, covering her mouth with her hand. “Just the right amount of seasoning, too.”

Anna smiled. She had dimples when she smiled, and Maren’s eyes naturally drifted from her smile to the freckles on her cheeks to the curve of her neck. Maren tried very hard not to look forward to their meetings, and she hated herself a little for how her treacherous body gravitated towards Anna’s warm presence.

“I’ll remember what you liked, for our next meeting,” Anna took a sip from her glass, filled with the juice of red berries that colored her lips into a beautiful shade of pink.

“I’m sure you will,” Maren murmured, and she knew it was true. The queen was nothing if not attentive. And beautiful. She was so, _so_ beautiful, all charming mannerisms and – “I assume this was not a social call?” Maren spoke, bringing her wandering thoughts back to focus.

“Ah.” Anna raised her eyes to the clear blue sky, then sighed. “I can almost resent you for being so straight-to-business. Such a pleasant day, and the way you look in your summer attire…” Anna met her eyes and smiled, and warmth spread from Maren’s cheeks down her neck. “A pity to upset you.”

“Then don’t.”

“Would that I could,” Anna licked her lips. “Alas, I’m afraid you’ll find my request most displeasing.”

And Maren should have stood up and left right then, because she knew if she stayed, she’d end up agreeing to things she didn’t want. But she also knew if she stayed, the night would end with her lying on the queen’s sheets, and true to her status, Anna was not afraid to leave marks, and perhaps Maren had the right to be a little bit selfish.

And maybe, just maybe, good things would come out of it, anyway. Last time, she’d walked out of the queen’s bedroom with the taxes over Northruldan products reduced to a measly two per cent. Maren told herself she was just doing her duty by hearing the queen out.

“Just get it over with, then.”

“I want your people to join Arendelle under the status of a province.” Anna put down her glass and stared at her. “You’d be a county, with you as your people’s duchess.”

“No,” Maren replied instantly. “Absolutely not. We have no interest in submitting to your lifestyle or your customs. I have no desire to join your nobility.”

“I feared as much,” Anna uncrossed her legs and stretched. “Will you humor my arguments, at least?”

Maren stared at the horizon, following a lonely, fluffy white cloud with her eyes. She sighed. “I’m already here, might as well.”

“Taxes, for once. I’ve lowered taxes on your products as much as I could, but should you join the kingdom, then they’d be gone altogether.” She picked her glass back up and swirled the drink inside it. When she took a sip, a little bit of juice remained on her lips, giving them a glow, and Maren had the urge to kiss them. “Taxation would be different, of course. Rather than paying for exports, you’d give me part of your profits.”

“We don’t _do_ profits,” Maren hissed, then forced her annoyance to simmer down. Leaning forward, she took the glass from Anna’s hand and finished the drink. It was far too sweet, and when she put the glass down, Anna had arched an eyebrow at her, then licked her lips while making eye contact. Maren looked away.

“I’m quite aware of the Northrulda’s… unique financial regimen.” Anna picked a slice of Herring with her fingers and took it to her mouth, licking her fingertips. “Rest assured. There would be no pressure to make money, no goals to meet. The taxes would fall on the surplus, if there’s any.”

“Mmh.” Maren took a moment to think. The offer was far too good to be true, and she knew there were catches somewhere. “There’s more to being a province than just that, though, isn’t there? What about things such as… borders and army recruitment?”

“Open borders, of course,” Anna let herself fall down on the grass, then put her hands behind her head. “Arendellian citizens get to go in and out of the forest as they please, and vice-versa. As for the army, your people would be subject to the same requirements as everyone else. All must enlist at the age of eighteen, but most will be discharged, save for times of war.”

“Open borders just sound like an invitation for trouble. I’m sorry, Anna, but your people just don’t respect nature as we do.” Maren shook her head. “And I see no reason why I should subject my people to being potential military recruits. It’s a great loss of freedom, in exchange for… minimal wins. This is a losing situation for us. You’ll have to give me better reasons.”

“Fine. The duke of Weselton is your reason.” Anna rolled to the side to face her. “As you know, Northrulda’s borders are in direct contact with Weselton. And the duke has been a pain in my ass for years. He’s pressuring me to claim territory, as my grandfather would have, and he unfortunately has plenty of sympathizers and not much in the way of morals.” She clicked her tongue absently. “What I fear is that he’ll set you up somehow. Prepare an ambush, provocation, whatever you will, that will have you respond aggressively and force me to regard your attitude as an act of war.”

Maren arched an eyebrow. She moved to Anna’s side, then laid down herself. “Nonsense. You would never.”

“Declare war on you?”

“Yes, of course.” Maren crossed her legs at the ankles. “Not only because we are also your people, like it or not. Not only because our numbers are nothing to scoff at. Not even because the spirits would fight by our side – or, well, because of one spirit. Your sister. Your sister is a guardian of that forest, and you wouldn’t raise a finger against her.”

“Hah!” Anna grinned. “You’re sharp. Savvy. And bold. An… exciting combination.” She said the last two words in a slightly lower tone that sent a shiver down Maren’s spine. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

Maren narrowed her eyes at her. “Then what is this about?”

“The Southern Isles,” Anna admitted, and Maren blinked. She wasn’t sure what answer she’d expected, but that was definitely not it. Anna’s hand moved to Maren’s cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “A monarchy, Honey, is a den of snakes.”

 _Why do you have to smile like that,_ Maren thought, flushing, Anna’s fingers leaving trails of warmth on her skin. “Isn’t that where your former fiancée is from? The bastard who tried to kill you?”

“Hans, yes,” Anna didn’t pull her hand back, instead tracing Maren’s jaw with her fingers. Maren swallowed dry. “He’s gone, and yet the ripples of his deeds affect me to this day. After he left, Arendelle established a commercial embargo on the isles. It hurt us, but it hurt them more. Hurt them to a breaking point, even.” Her hand moved to Maren’s neck.

Her touch was so damn distracting, Maren needed a colossal effort to focus on the matters at hand. “So what does that have to do with you annexing the Northrulda?”

“As a show of good faith and hoping to reestablish our relationship, the Southern Isles sent Caleb – their eldest – in the hopes of making amends. By courting me.” Anna’s fingers moved down to Maren’s arm. “This is a big gesture, and a complicated one. What I need you to understand is this: my grandfather, bastard that he was, still had a very prosperous reign. Arendelle expanded under his rule, grew richer. In comparison, my parents’ closed-gate years were absolute shit. And Elsa would have been a good queen, had her reign not been plagued by so many disturbances of the magical kind.”

Anna’s palms touched her waist, and Maren threw away any manner of sense and moved closer so that their hips touched. It had the desired effect, and for a split second, she had the satisfaction of seeing Anna’s breath hitch. Maren smirked, victorious. “I sense there’s a but?”

“But the fact is, Arendelle has seen a lot of turmoil lately.” Anna absently moved her hand to Maren’s thigh. “If Elsa was still queen, this would have been a simple situation. I would marry Caleb, and a wedding between the first in line of the Southern Isles and the spare of Arendelle would reestablish our relationships while still making clear that Arendelle won the dispute.”

“But Elsa resigned,” Maren caught up with her line of thought. “And you’re a queen with no spare.”

“Exactly.” She rubbed her thumb on Maren’s skin, and Maren bit back a whimper. “Now you see, letting skirmishes on my borders go unanswered would make me seem weak. And a weak queen with no heirs? I wouldn’t get to turn down a marriage proposal.” She met Maren’s gaze, moving her palm to the small of Maren’s back. “On the other hand, annexing the Northruldan lands – a territory bigger even than the Southern Isles – without shedding a drop of blood? That’s a great feat, one with no match since King Runeard’s conquests.”

“You’re not pushing me around to join you,” Maren realized. “You wouldn’t have a lot to push me around with, if you tried. You’re… asking me to save you.”

Anna met Maren’s gaze, bit her lip, then smiled. “From a loveless, political marriage, yes. As much as I adore my sister and admire her unwavering resolution, I don’t get to run off to the woods and escape my duties, and she really left me with a barrel of powder about to explode. So I’m trapped between a rock and a hard place.” She propped herself up on her arm and rested her cheek on her hand. “Marry the knucklehead sibling of the man who tried kill me – all things considered, that’s not so terrible. He’s handsome yet dumb, easy to manipulate.” Anna paused, as if contemplating her options for the first time, “Or… try to bargain with the shrewd, tricky Northruldan leader. A high-risk, high-reward gamble.”

“What a weird choice you have made, then,” Maren looked at her, and this time she didn’t stop her eyes from roaming from her face to her collarbones to her cleavage. “I see the risks, but not the rewards.”

Anna smiled, sly. “Perhaps the reward is you.”

 _Gods fucking damn this woman,_ Maren thought, but she knew an opportunity when she saw one. “I’ll take it. On a few conditions.”

“Ah, I expected no less. Would have been disappointing otherwise, really.”

Maren raised a finger. “First one – open borders, but with restrictions. You may visit the villages. You may visit parts of the forest. But I want an assurance that you won’t bring your destructive practices to us. Our nature, our resources? Those are to remain untouched.”

Anna sighed. “Difficult, but fine. I’ll declare some territories as holy land, not to be entered, and the others…I suppose I can make the migration bureaucratic enough to discourage any endeavors.”

“That will do. I can work some magic on my end as well. Make it… inconvenient to be where we don’t want people to be.” She smirked. Anna shrugged and didn’t object. Maren raised another finger. “Secondly – you share with us, we share with you. We’re not selfish. But we won’t exhaust our resources to keep alive unsustainable practices, either.”

“As previously agreed, that shall not change.”

“And one last thing,” Maren raised a third finger, but didn’t continue.

“Mm?”

“You said you’re making me… duchess?” The word sound alien on Maren’s tongue. Anna nodded. “And that’s nobility, I figure. So here’s the deal: I don’t want a castle. I don’t want fancy dresses, fancy meals, any of that. I want to live my life with my people, as I always have. _But._ There’s one noble privilege I’d like.” She put on her best neutral face. “This courting you thing? I want in.”

“Oh?” Anna grinned, almost lazily. “You want to be my wife?”

 _I am absolutely not opposed to the idea,_ her treacherous brain whispered, and Maren buried the thought. “I don’t like the narrative you’re spinning, that’s all.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Your grandfather was hailed as a hero by your people,” Maren scowled at the words. “And you annexing us? That’s you continuing his expansionist endeavors. Which is not what I want for the Northrulda. We come as allies, not as the conquered. If you want me to join your game, I’m joining as a player, not as a pawn.”

Anna laughed, a delightful sound that broke the growing tension between them and sent warmth over all of Maren’s body. “I see. You’re doing it for the power, then.”

Maren hesitated then, thinking her next words carefully. “I’m doing it because if Arendelle and the Northrulda are to be one, then they ought to have equal voices. If you’re recruiting my brothers and sisters into your army, then I get to have a say on where they’re sent. If we are to walk together, then we build our story together. As equals.”

Anna smiled, but didn’t contest her. “Granted. Any other requests before we seal our deal?”

“They’ll come,” Maren let go of the last slivers of self-control and touched Anna’s face. Her skin was warm, as was the whole of her. “But for now, we’re good.”

“I must say I find your confidence enthralling,” Anna’s voice dropped to a whisper, “You don’t even know what the courting process is like, and not once did it cross your mind that you might lose it to Caleb.”

There was only so much Maren could take before her blood began to boil, and Anna turned out to be an expert on pushing her buttons. Maren rolled on top of her with a snarl. “Oh, _please_ ,” she said, holding Anna’s arms down and leaning for a rough kiss that tasted of sweet berries. “You wouldn’t be here, begging me to rescue you, if you planned to pick him on first place.”

“Begging you?” Anna arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps I’m playing you. Perhaps this is my very cunning plan to have both the north and the south. Can you say for sure?” She grinned, and Maren couldn’t stop looking at her – her lips, the freckles on her cheeks, the way her fiery red hair contrasted with the dark greens of the field. “Truth is,” Anna freed her arms from Maren’s grip and wrapped them around her neck, “Right now, I have you exactly where I want you.”

Before she could speak, Anna pulled her down into a kiss, tangling their legs together and flipping their bodies over so that Maren had her back to the ground. “Exactly where I want you,” Anna repeated, pinning Maren down and holding her face with long, elegant fingers. “And now we’re done with the terms, perhaps we can get to the more interesting part of this negotiation. The one where you show me your ambitious requests are more than just talk.”

“I’ll show you,” Maren pushed herself up to meet Anna with a kiss, provoking a satisfied moan when her teeth tugged on Anna’s bottom lip. “I’ll win you over before I even officially join the race.”

“Then start working,” Anna ordered in a tone that left no room for argument.

And Maren did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> their sexual tension is just so off the charts tho
> 
> annamaren be like: angry sex. angry sex. high stakes negotiations. game of thrones-esque political manouvering. anticolonialism. angry sex. angry s


	3. Chapter 3

That the Summer Queen knew her way around a sword surprised Maren, though she supposed it shouldn’t have – the desire for self-defense was a natural one, particularly for people in Anna’s position. And though Maren knew being royalty entailed danger, Anna’s presence was such a powerful, imposing one, she couldn’t imagine anyone making an attempt at her life.

The blade she held was more or less the same weight of the bastons she was used to wielding, but the balance was entirely different – the blade’s length felt unfamiliar, and so did the fact she could only hold it with one hand. But the feet movements, at least, were similar enough that she didn’t embarrass herself.

Anna lunged forward and Maren sidestepped, turning her body, and when she saw an opening, she tapped the dull blade against the back of Anna’s knee. “Got you.”

“Hits below the waist don’t count,” Anna pushed Maren’s blade away with her own.

“What do you mean they don’t count?” Maren backed away so she was back where she’d started. “A blow on the knee is crippling.”

“Rules are rules,” Anna shrugged, then offered her a sly smile. “If you want to win my hand, you have to follow them.”

It was an odd situation, the one she was in. Maren felt fairly certain that Anna had no interest in any of the other suitors – the fact that she was getting private fencing lessons seemed like a good indicator of such favoritism. And _yet._

“Your rules are dumb,” Maren licked her lips and raised her blade, focusing.

“Most rules are. That’s why I don’t play by them,” Anna replied, flicking her wrist.

Their blades clashed once, twice, whirring through the air. Not only did Anna know how to use a sword, she was also _good_ , good enough that Maren was certain she could be disarmed in a split second, should Anna want it. Instead they danced around the room, going back and forth faster and faster, and as she moved, she could almost feel the weight of Anna’s hungry gaze on her.

Anna looked, and did not look away when caught staring, never dropped her gaze, not one ounce of shame to her. It made something strange stir inside Maren, a mix of admiration and brazen desire. Anna wanted what she wanted, was not afraid to show it and even less afraid to take it.

The sound of metal against metal grew louder, the blows hard enough to rattle Maren’s teeth when their swords collided. Although it got easier by the second, Maren was still struggling with the weapon. That Anna took the fight with clear ease was a little infuriating. The way Anna’s eyes roamed over Maren’s body when they moved was –

Well, it was something else.

And she must have been distracted by the shape of Anna’s arms or the cleavage of her sleeveless tunic, because she felt cool metal touch her collarbone and she had to force her eyes up to Anna’s face to see that lazy, teasing smile that came with narrowed eyes and smug confidence.

“Got you.”

Her choice of attire, Maren knew without a doubt, had been on purpose. “I’m still getting used to the sword. It doesn’t help that you’re left-handed, too.” Speaking made Maren realize just how winded she was, and she put the sword down and bent over to catch her breath.

“I’m not.” Anna rested her sword against the chair, carefully balancing it. “Left-handed, I mean. Elsa is. It was a bit of a nightmare for her, growing up. I used to cut her food for her during dinner when we were little, because using a knife was just such a struggle.”

“You fight with your left, though,” Maren pointed out. She hesitated for a second, acutely aware of how sweat was clinging to her skin, then let herself fall on the couch regardless. 

“But of course. Most people are right-handed. An enemy using the left is infinitely harder to face because of that – it makes a mirror match impossible, and instead you have to block and dodge and slice from your non-dominant side.” Anna sat down on a fancy chair in front of Maren. It wasn’t a throne, but Anna had a way of making anything seem like one. “I’m not at all ambidextrous. Swordplay is one of the few things I can do with both sides.”

 _What are the others?_ Maren wanted to ask, but Anna was looking at her in such way, she decided against it out of spite. Instead she stared right back, noting with a degree of annoyance that through their whole skirmish, Anna had managed to keep her shirt perfectly tucked in her pants.

And then, as if reading her thoughts, Anna kicked off her boots and threw her legs over the chair’s armrest, stretching back against the cushion. The break from perfectly composed to this casual, relaxed intimacy caught Maren off guard. It was always like that, with Anna – never a warning before she broke all decorum and slipped from the restraints of formality like smoke between fingers.

“You’re staring.”

She was confident to the point of cockiness, something strangely magnetic, and her presence was so intoxicating Maren found herself leaning forward to reply. “I like the leatherwork of your pants. Really polished. Where did you get it from?”

“Mmmh. This one was among mother’s old clothes, actually. It might very well be Northruldan.”

“Of course.” Maren licked her lips, eyes roaming the shape of Anna’s legs. “It doesn’t surprise me that it lasted years. Our crafts were always the best quality.”

“So are your leaders, I’ve heard,” Anna’s hand drifted to the pommel of her sword and she spun it, the tip making a dent on the wooden ground. The ease in which she turned a conversation wherever she wanted it to go never ceased to amaze Maren. “Care to put that to the test? A battle of wits is just as important to win my hand as a battle of swords.”

“Win your hand,” Maren repeated, trying to kick off her boots. After a couple of failed attempts, she bent down to unlace them. “That’s demeaning to you and me both. You’re no object to be conquered. And I,” she freed her feet from their constraints, “I am no _conqueror_.” She said the last word in a particularly sharp tone, and Anna arched an eyebrow.

“Ah. I see you’ve heard what they’ve been calling me.” She ran her finger over the flat of her blade, letting it roam dangerously close to the edge. “Anna the Conqueror. Prodigy grandchild of Runeard the Vanquisher. Carrying on his legacy.”

“I must say I find Summer Queen much more tasteful,” Maren pulled off her socks and put them inside the boots, wiggling her toes. “I recall telling you I wanted the exact opposite of this narrative.”

To her defense, Anna looked genuinely apologetic. She shrugged. “I don’t like it, either. I find the concept to be…” She raised her eyes to the ceiling, thinking. “Hypermasculine to a repulsive extent. Conquering, vanquishing, subjugating, all words with such violent imagery that it’s a _disgrace_ to have them attached to me. I did not conquer. I unified. That’s much harder than sending men to swing swords at one another. Harder, and far more elegant. A bigger achievement, that’s what I mean.”

“Then perhaps that’s what you should name yourself. Anna the Unifier.” Maren stretched her legs on top of the couch. “Although that seems like a euphemism, does it not? Changing your title when the _culture_ remains the same is nothing but a self-serving way to relieve your own guilt.”

Anna grinned, forming dimples on her cheeks. “What a delight it is to talk with a person as brilliant and fearless as you, Honeymaren. You don’t let a single drop of hypocrisy slip by, do you?”

Maren smirked. “You called for a battle of wits. I’d like to think I’m better at that than I am with Arendellian swords.”

“You’re not bad with them.” Anna took her sword onto her lap in a single smooth movement, drumming her fingers against the metal.

“I’m not good, either.”

“Almost no one is. Certainly not the ones who brag about it.” She ran her fingers over the blade’s edge almost reverently. “Here’s the real secret, the only one that matters: strike first, and strike fast. Ninety-nine per cent of times, that’s how you win. Sure, sometimes you’ll meet someone truly extraordinary – someone who will force you to use all your feints and pirouettes. But more often than not, all you have to do is not hesitate.”

Anna pulled her finger back from the sword’s tip. A single drop of blood seeped from a paper-thin cut, and she licked it clean. Maren frowned.

“I thought the swords were dulled.”

“They are, but the tip always pierces.” Anna once again leaned the blade against the chair and rubbed her hands together. “The true joy of our conversations is knowing you understand me perfectly. You can’t imagine how refreshing that is, after a day in court. And that, truly, is what I need. Someone who understands the war I fight is not that of blades, but that of ideas.” Their eyes met then, and there was a split second of staggering vulnerability in which Anna’s lips curled downward and her brow tensed. “I want things to change, Maren. I want a culture of peace.”

“That’s not an easy task,” Maren absently loosened her shirt by tugging the first button free. The way Anna watched with fierce, unblinking attention didn’t escape her. “Arendelle’s was bellicose under Runeard, reclusive and paranoid under Agnarr, and turmoiled under Elsa. That last one might work out in your favor, though, because crisis leads to change.” Maren took a moment to think. “I do wonder about your motives, though. I understand wanting to leave the diplomatic hostility in the past, but why leave the so-called expansionist glory, too?”

“What makes me different from my grandfather, that’s what you want to ask?”

“In a way,” Maren tapped her foot against the couch’s cushion. “Though I suppose it’s a bit more philosophical than that. What made you reject the concept of success and victory you were brought up with?”

“My parents were awful, for one,” her tone was so deadpan, Maren couldn’t stop herself from snickering. Anna gave her a mildly insulted look and shook her head, smirking. “They were!” She shrugged. “Mostly though it’s a matter of principles. Of legitimacy, you could say. Maybe I just read too many books.”

“Legitimacy?” Maren tilted her head.

“Indeed.” Anna leaned back against the chair’s armrest, making her awkward sitting position even stranger. “What gives one the right to rule? Is it blood, inherited from my grandfather who founded this kingdom? Does this right, as some say, come directly from the gods? What makes the people accept me as their queen?”

“Mmh.” Maren considered the question. “Hard for me to answer. The Northrulda don’t really do… leadership in the way you do. I make decisions for my tribe and they accept it because they trust I have their best interests in mind. To the other tribes though, and when I represent the whole of us to you, I’m not a ruler as much as I am a spokesperson.”

“Do you believe I have everyone’s best interests in mind?” Anna had a twinkle in her eyes when she made the question.

Maren shrugged. “Does anyone?”

Anna laughed. Maren cursed her treacherous heart for skipping a beat at the sound, knowing it meant trouble. It was one thing to be attracted to Anna’s magnetic charisma – unavoidable, really – but it was another thing entirely to let… whatever was squeezing at her chest blossom. She cleared her throat. “That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? Monarchies aren’t like tribes and queens aren’t like chiefs. They’re impersonal.”

Anna nodded. “Many have speculated on it, but most agree it’s about safety. A commoner might not believe I’ll do good with their tax money – might not even expect me to, really – but they know that with a ruler comes certain… certainties. They know there are rules which will be followed to a reasonable degree. They know thievery, murder and violence will be punished, and that there’s an army to ensure that. I only get to be a ruler because society needs rules to function and my presence, for better or worse, enforces that.”

“All about the stability, then,” Maren ran her fingers over the soft cloth that covered her seat. The Northrulda hardly did such luxuries, and she looked at them under the light of Anna’s words. “The taxes, the fanciness, all that in exchange for the service of keeping their lives safe and their properties where they left them.”

“In that order, or it should be. That can be a challenge, because great property brings great power, and with great power comes a feeling of being untouchable. When one takes their life for granted, they may lose sight of the priorities and start thinking things are comparable to lives. They’re not. Life takes precedence, always.”

 _She’s a good ruler,_ Maren realized, not just from what Anna said but also from the way she leaned forward when she spoke, eyes narrowing in rapt focus and determination. _And one cannot be a better ruler than they are a person. She’s a good person._

“The thing about war…” Anna trailed off. Maren gave her the time to gather her thoughts. “War is hardly for good reason. Sometimes, it’s about bruised egos. Sometimes, it’s just bad misunderstandings. Most times, though, it’s about things. The things of the powerful – the things of people who own many things, and have a lot to lose, and think they can exchange lives to keep them. That’s what war is about.”

“But if you choose that, if you send people to die to protect things… then your priorities are wrong,” Maren concluded.

“Not only that,” Anna met Maren’s eyes, and Maren was once again hypnotized by their stunning green color, and by the firm confidence in Anna’s voice. “My whole legitimacy and the very pillars of this society derive from people trusting me to keep them safe, and if I can do the opposite – if I can let them die when there’s a choice not to – then what right do I have to rule?”

“I have to say,” Maren moved to sit upright, letting her feet touch the ground. “I’ve never had to consider any such questions. Mostly, I think, because the Northrulda don’t accumulate things as you do. We move around a lot. The more you own, the more you have to carry. And most things are shared, anyway.”

“I suppose we can learn a lot from each other, then.”

“I don’t know,” Maren smiled. “The more you talk about it, the more deflating it seems. You have to deal with all of _that_? Learning swordplay is fine, but this wife of the queen thing is starting to sound less and less appealing.”

“Maybe we should get back to swords, then,” Anna stood, picking up her blade. “I do need to unwind, and it turns out wiping the floor with you does that nicely.”

“We’ll see about that.” Maren jumped to her feet, not bothering to put her boots back on. They got back to their position in the middle of the room. When Anna held her sword with her left hand, Maren chose to mimic the movement.

And then she bolted forward and struck first. As fast as she was, Anna was still more proficient, and the blow was blocked with laughter and relative ease. Instead of pulling her sword back, however, Maren took a step forward so that the distance between them was minimal. She leaned in and pressed her lips against Anna’s, briefly, just enough that Anna’s pupils dilated with desire and she chased after the kiss, wanting more.

When Maren pulled away, Anna scowled. “If your plan is to use a kiss to distract me while you sneakily put the sword to my throat and boast of victory, I will fucking end you.”

“I would never,” Maren replied, grinning. “Really. I just want you, and I’m tired of wanting what I can have.”

“You’ve grown bold.” Anna leaned forward and kissed her again, their clashed swords still held between them. “Drop your weapon, then. I can think of other ways to unwind.”

Maren put her sword down and kissed Anna again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blame the friends on discord who keep making art of the ship


End file.
